Jam Transit Hyems Rewrite
by Welcome To Story Time
Summary: Two and a half years after Scorpia Rising, a new enemy arises; along with other unexpected company. Same plot line with no plot holes. Not compulsory, but suggest to read original. No determined update date, but it won't be two years this time.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer: consider this rewritten and disclaimed.**_

Prologue I  
The Secret to Reanimating the Dead  
_**  
**_Keeping your hands clean is impossible in the world of espionage. For the sake of the country or the world, certain things must be done. Things many would dispute; things that would bring the integrity of a nation under question.  
The actions of the Secret Service are to remain –for the most part- _secret_ for this reason.  
However, every secret has an expiration date; and in a world held together by them, the fall-out could be catastrophic.

This was the case of Mrs Jones. It wasn't even her secrets causing the problems. No, after two years in the Head position of MI6, she was still cleaning up the shit left behind by the man previous. After having three brothers, Mrs Jones was so sick of cleaning up after men.  
These secrets involved a child. The most talented, unluckiest lucky child Mrs Jones ever had the honour of meeting. But it seemed that the secrets of this child had their own secrets and it was this issue that she was now dealing with.

At first no-one could have guessed that the child was involved at all. Agents were going missing from all over the globe. British and American agents vanished, with no word to give reason, no organisation claiming responsibility, nothing to suggest that they were dead or alive. It was a difficult situation to explain, especially to the families of the missing. With Christmas around the corner, her job just got a lot harder.  
Until her American counterpart, Joseph Byrne, received a message:

_**The Rider is next**_

The message signed only with a fiery phoenix. This only caused more confusion. With Intel gained from the FBI, passed onto Mrs Jones, through Byrne; she was informed that 'Phoenix' as they had come to be known, was a recently founded, low level organisation. Only discovered in early February that year, Phoenix were responsible for the increase of drug and human trafficking in America.  
Originally under the FBI's jurisdiction...until now.

Why such an organisation would move from drug ring to large-scale abduction, and to threaten a child they shouldn't even know existed was beyond both Jones' and Byrne's comprehension.

Under mutual agreement, Alex Rider had gained five new neighbours around the estate in which he lived, a new football coach, drama teacher, Janitor and casual jogger who came past with their two poodles every morning on Alex's way to school.

Both MI6 and the CIA had sent in their high operatives (who were yet to be captured) to infiltrate Phoenix. One of whom, Mrs Jones quietly noticed, was Ben Daniels; who volunteered so quickly it would put Katniss Everdeen to shame.

His eagerness to protect the boy was both a powerful asset and dangerous flaw in such a community

This was three weeks ago, and many complications can arise in three weeks.

* * *

It was New Years Eve, and the people of Washington DC could be heard outside the CIA headquarters celebrating.

Inside was a sombre affair, after an influx of disappearances, Mrs Jones had joined Byrne in the United States capital.  
Despite all the lit rooms, the Head office was the only one occupied.  
Everyone else gone for the holiday, leaving the top spies alone with their thoughts and confusion.  
Mrs Jones and Joseph Byrne sat across from each other, neither of them young but both looking decades older than they were.  
If possible, Byrne had more grey hair than when Jones had last seen him. Underneath the black dye, her own was the same shade.  
Both had a glass of gin in their hands but neither were drinking, just staring into their glasses, processing the recent development.

Mrs Jones sighed and with a purposeful _thud_, she brought her glass down onto the table, decorating it with a splatter of alcohol.

"Are you aware of what this _threat_ is suggesting? There is no possible way either of these men are still alive; even if –God forbid- we should comply with these demands, how are we to hand over a boy and two corpses?"

Byrne gently placed his glass down, furrowing his eyebrows together in deep contemplation.

"I don't believe everything either of us has been told in the past to be true; they claim to already have one of the three. I know for a fact the Alex Rider is currently attending a Miss Moore's New Year's party. Ian Rider has been dead for a good three years and John Rider was a man of a great many secrets but is too dead. For either of them to be alive and not come into contact with the boy is unfathomable".

Mrs Jones leant into her hand, her thumb rubbing the middle of her brow in an effort to remove the oncoming headache.

"I never saw the body. I never saw the body but if he is somehow alive, who the hell is buried in Brompton. I don't want to excavate a body to see if someone is calling bluff".

Silence filled the room once more. In all their years in the service combined, the two had seen it all. Reanimation of the dead was something that only existed in fiction. If these men were alive, it would be the work of great deception or divine interference.

Joseph Byrne leant back in his seat, causing it to creak.

"I'll have the FBI investigate the threat against the school; as for Phoenix, I do have a man on the inside. After his history, most would question his loyalty but as of now, he is all we have. I understand your Ben Daniels has now gone silent, do you believe he is MIA?"

Sirens wailed in the streets outside, no doubt for someone who had too much to drink, police and medical services were always the busiest this time of year.  
Glancing at the clock, Jones realised it wouldn't be long until they heard fireworks.

"It's too soon to tell, last contact was twenty-six hours ago. For all we know, he's taken the night off."

Byrne gave an uncharacteristic snort. Mrs Jones sighed, popped a peppermint into her mouth and removed her black heels. She felt old.

"I'm going to order the excavation of Ian Rider's grave. Hopefully there is some merit to it or Alex will be furious."

Byrne stood, taking the glasses with him and deposited them at the bar.

"The boy doesn't need to know; after all he's a ten hour flight away from it."

Jones grabbed a napkin and wiped up the gin from the table in a swift movement.  
She then proceeded to throw the soiled napkin into the bin, where it was incinerated.

"I'm not going to seek his permission, just after everything, he should have the right to know".

Byrne had moved to the window. The countdown could be heard on the streets. He shut the blinds.

"Why worry him? The less he knows the safer he will be".

Fireworks shook the building, cheering hushed by the sound. 2012 had begun.  
Mrs Jones stood and straightened out her skirt.

"When has that ever been the case?"

Byrne walked over and leant down to pick up her heels and handed them to her.  
Mrs Jones grabbed them stiffly and put the horrid things back on her sore feet.

"Tell him if there is something in it. If Ian rests in the grave, say nothing of it. If he doesn't, then we tell the boy".

They both headed for the door, Byrne opened it and allowed Mrs Jones to walk through.

"Happy New Year, Mrs Jones".

Mrs Jones turned around to regard him briefly.

"Happy New Year, Mr Byrne".

She then walked away briskly, neither of them believing the sentiment. 

* * *

Ian Rider listened to the howls of the chilling winds as it flew past the grate window at the very top of his cell wall.  
The occasional fleck of snow floated inside only to melt seconds later. It was almost its own form of torture, being so close to the outside world but never touching it.

Ian hated this type of weather, it made the days endlessly blurred. He had managed to keep track of his time here by carving the number of days onto the wall with a piece of wire pulled from his spring bed. Had it been any other cell, he would have used the wire to pick the locked door; unfortunately, all the cells in his recently acquired block had an electronic locking system Ian had never come across before.  
So he just laid there, growing smellier and hairier.

It was very boring.

The only positive side of his new housing was the –currently frozen- flushing loo, his new "room-mate" and "neighbours".

"Hey Ian, do you think if I piss for long enough, I can thaw the ice?"

However, there were times when he missed his solitude.  
His 'roommate' was the young Ethan Rose, barely old enough to be an agent, in Ian's opinion.  
Though the boy was nineteen (and a half, like it mattered), Ethan looked like a Year 12, though blessed with clear skin he grew fluffy duck fuzz excuse for facial hair. His maturity was also questionable.

"Ian, I spy..."

"I'm not playing I-Spy with you again Ethan".

It was something he often played with Alex when he was four. It helped him notice the little details, and pass time on long car rides.

"Something beginning with 'S'".

Ian sighed and sat up to look at the boy.

"Is it a spy?"

Ethan hit his bed.

"Dammit, how do you always know?"

Ian ignored him and shut his eyes. He could hear snickering from the other cells around him. How'd he get stuck with this kid?  
Ethan shifted around on his bed, springs creaking, and huffed. A moment later, he was chewing his nails.  
Ian winced as he heard the boy spit one across the room.

"Don't do that, the room is filthy enough as is".

Ethan laughed and spat another piece of nail across the room.

"That's rich, I'm pretty sure China can smell you".

Ian replied with a silent hand gesture.  
Ethan's laughter cut short with the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall.

Two men stopped outside their cell. Ethan shrank back on his bed, while Ian tried to convince his weary body to sit up straighter.

One of the men leered forward.

" 'Ello Rider, How are you this fine evening?"

Ian stood at the direct acknowledgement but said nothing. The man sneered at him, grabbed something from his back pocket and shoved it into Ian's stomach. Hard.  
Ian grunted; stomach clenched painfully.

"Brought you a present...".

The man laughed and nudged his friend with his elbow, a little too aggressively as the other man glared at him.

"Do you like it?"

Ian looked down at the thing in his hands. It was a newspaper. Giving the thug a brief curious look, Ian unfolded it and checked the front.  
It was the _San Francisco Chronicle_. Now he was confused, what did he care about San Francisco.  
He's English.  
It was dated Friday 13th of January, 2012. Ian felt time freeze. The world went silent. He had been a captive for three fucking years.  
Alex would be seventeen in a month.

He glanced back up at the man.

"Why'd you give me this? Want anything in particular from the Black Friday sale?"

Ian went to hand the paper back,

"I'm afraid I have no money".

Ian was grabbed through the bars by the front of his shirt and slammed into them.  
Ethan gave a cry of protest but did nothing to stop them.  
He was shoved back and Ian could taste blood.

"Check page three, you might find something of interest".

Ian stumbled back to his bed and sat. He picked up the paper, doing as instructed. He skimmed the many article titles, trying to find the one the thug was referring to.  
He stopped on one title.  
_Pacific Heights High School Soccer Team Goes To State!_

Ian flicked the paper and huffed,

"It's called football".

Then a face in the team photo caught his eye. Ian checked the names.  
_Alexander Rider-Pleasure, age 16 (Striker,Co-captain).  
_Ian instantly knew why these men made the trip downstairs to give him a newspaper. It was his nephew. His hair was darker and the last traces of baby fat were gone but it was his boy. Happiness, concern and confusion broiled up inside him, bringing an ill feeling.  
Alex was in America, but his name was changed. Not to Starbright, but to something else.  
Had he been adopted? Did he think Ian was dead? Most likely, but where was Jack?  
Fear for the redhead was definitely going to keep him from sleeping.  
His nephew's face was giving a smug half smile to the camera, like he knew that his team would be the one to win, but his eyes held something dark.

Ian was ripped from his thoughts as fast as the paper from his hands. Small paper cuts sliced into his fingers. The first thug had entered the cell to retrieve it; he slammed the cell door shut as he exited. The door gave a metallic buzz as it locked.

"Don't despair Rider, you'll be seeing him again soon enough. We have big plans for you three".

Slapping his mate on the shoulder, they both turned in stride, back up the stairs.

For a moment it was quiet, Ethan's eyes burning questions into his back. Suddenly, the silence was broken by a Liverpudlian accent coming from a neighbouring cell.

"Did he say your name was Rider?" 

* * *

_"__Twenty-one year old, Andrew Hilliard was abducted from his Los Angles home last Wednesday night. Hilliard is the tenth man with connections to the Special Forces to go missing in the past three weeks. Police have made no comment to whether these disappearances are connected..."_

Yassen Gregorovich turned the volume down on his car stereo as he watched the family across from him move in. The tiniest of smiles danced across his lips as he watched his former mentor domestically juggle cardboard boxes whilst the beautiful blonde woman he recognised from so many years ago, tried to organise the two children out of the car.  
The sight was truly hard to believe; had Yassen not been tracking the man for three months, he would not.  
John Rider was one of the best spies to have ever existed, capable of casting the best deceptions. And here was the proof.  
If only he knew it was about to come crashing down.  
All because of one forgotten child.  
Another emotion crossed the former assassin's face; barely attainable.  
It was time he had a long over-due talk with Alex Rider.  
He turned his car keys and the Lexus rumbled to life. He spared one last glance at the family before pulling out of the estate.

_**AN  
So, two years huh? Ouch!  
And only leaving you with this. Ouch!  
We did originally plan to rewrite to the point of the latest chapter and then publish but we wanted you to know we are doing something.  
We have a Villian! And a Plot with no holes! Yay!  
No confirm on next update but it won't be two years. Other JTH will be taken down once this one is up to date.  
Enjoy it until then.  
-Jean &amp; Diana**_


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed  
**

* * *

Chapter One  
Only the Beginning

Alex Rider woke with the sensation of falling. His body shuddered, pain shot through his left foot as it hit the bedpost; heart pounding and lungs struggling for breath.  
It felt like the world caught in a raging fire.

Alex ripped the duvet off his face but instead of inhaling fresh air, he got a mouth full of fur.  
No wonder he was overheating. The chocolate coloured Labrador stopped gnawing his leg to greet him with wet, dog breathed kisses.

"Ack, Brax!"

The mutt crooned and stood up on the bed -and Alex- to come in closer at the call of his name. Air rushed out of Alex's lungs with a strangled grunt. When Alex had joined the Pleasure household, Brax the puppy had immediately taken to him, and his bed. Brax had not come to terms with the fact that he was no longer a puppy, and could no longer fit in the crook of Alex's arm as he slept; instead, he had spread himself over the young man crushing internal organs and other _sensitive_ areas in the process.

Alex pushed the dog's weight off him and swerved so his feet touched the carpet.  
He felt far too warm and his shirt stuck to his chest with sweat. It wasn't the first time that Brax's weight and body heat had caused nightmares. Last night he was back in Kenya, running through endless scrub with a bomb on his back and a feeling of being chased.  
It wasn't the worst, but it wasn't kind either.

Brax pushed his snout under Alex's arm, demanding attention. The digital clock on the computer desk stated the time to be seven thirty. One more day to the weekend; one more hour 'til school started. Maybe he could use his current state to convince Liz he was ill.

"Alex? You up yet?"

Brax's ears pricked up, he leapt off the bed with the grace of a newborn foal to greet Sabina who was already dressed for school.  
Today her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, which -in his opinion- was set on a crooked angle. Maybe it was on purpose, Alex would never understand the female mind. She seemed to have put extra effort into her makeup, blue eye shadow and the liquid eyeliner that he _knew_ she hated using, made her clear eyes pop.  
Sabina had broken up with her boyfriend two weeks ago.  
They had dated for nearly eighteen months. Alex had never liked him.

Alex guessed it was the 'make The Ex jealous' point of a breakup grief, where she would rub it in his face that she was hot and single.  
Alex never said anything about the relationship, he never knew if it would come across as 'worried brother' or envy. Since Sabina had banned the use of The Ex's name, things had grown more dramatic.  
It was her last months of school- she wanted to be a fashion designer- and in all honesty, Alex thought she should be focusing on that rather than winning back a tosser.

Her eyes zeroed in on his slick hair and wet shirt. Sabina crossed the room and placed her palm on his head to check his temperature.

"Are you sick, Alex? Did you have a nightmare?"

Alex sighed and pushed her hand away but she linked it with his. Worry drifted from her face slightly as she realised it was the latter.  
She forced a small smile, but her eyes held pity. He tried not to feel annoyed by it.  
She squeezed his hand in what was supposed to be a comforting manner.

"Come on, you got an hour, and Friday is Pancake day".

Letting go, Sabina turned and walked out his room, calling Brax to follow. Brax gave Alex a long, sad look before he lumbered after her. Sometimes that dog seemed to understand more than the people in this house did.

Alex's bedroom had an en-suite; he closed the door and stripped off to shower the night off him. Five minutes later, he stepped back into his room clean and hair dripping onto his shoulders.  
Jeans hanging from hips, Alex checked himself in the mirror. This wasn't a case of vanity, just something he had always done since being burnt. Scar check. It was a compulsion of his, as if the next day he would check for them and they would be gone. They never were.  
Faded marks and some puckered skin; Alex's body was a museum for them.  
The missing nerves in his left arm caused occasional numbness, as if the coin shaped scar on his chest wasn't a big enough reminder. The burns sometimes made his shoulders feel tight, but the others never caused issues.  
They were just there; permanent, ugly reminders of a past life.

Alex pulled on a shirt, threw on a hoodie and tried to shake himself out of the rut he'd woken up in. If Liz or Ed saw him acting off, they would send him back to the shrink early.  
Once a month was plenty.  
Alex shifted his duvet in a weak attempt of making his bed and headed down stairs, mind focused on the promise of pancakes. 

* * *

The kitchen radio blared as Liz sang and swayed to Lady Gaga.

Pancakes were stacked onto a plate on the counter island behind her. When he had lived with Jack -his chest gave a sharp pang- they would just eat pancakes from the pan. Sugary maple syrup overruled burnt fingers.  
In this household however, there were 'Standards'.  
With this in mind, Alex stalked his way to the plate, grabbed three, lathered them in syrup and ate them over the bench. Maple ran down his fingers and dripped onto the surface.

Alex let out a quiet moan of joy as the sweet syrupy goodness acquainted itself with his stomach.

"Alex John Rider! Put that on a plate!"

There was a grinding _shrick _as a plate was pushed across the counter stopping near Alex's resting elbow. Alex gave Liz a full- mouthed sheepish smile and dropped the remaining pancakes dramatically on the plate with a splat. His smile dropped at the sight of smoke curling from the frying pan.

"Uh, Liz, shouldn't you be, umm"

He trailed off as he wildly gestured to the pan. Liz's eyes widen.  
Alex watched with amusement as Liz waved a kitchen towel through the smoke and turned down the element. She muttered profanities and threats to the pan.  
Brax approached and stared at her. Liz glared back.

"Fine," She huffed and threw the burnt pancake on the floor, "It was the last of the batter anyway."

Alex watched the Lab as he vetoed chewing and swallowed the food whole. Liz chucked the pan in the sink with a _clang, _hit the tap and watched the water steam as it hit the hot metal. She turned off the tap and dried off her hands with the towel.

"Well that was a bit of a waste."  
"I smell smoke"

Sabina strode into the kitchen, trying to attach a bracelet to her right wrist. Her ponytail had been re-tied and was now significantly straighter. She plopped down next to Alex and held out her wrist, wordlessly telling him to attach the jewellery for her. He obliged, working the fiddly latch with ease.

"Mum burnt the pancakes."

Mother and daughter shared a look and smile; they always did when Alex used the 'M' word. The latch clicked and he gently pushed her wrist back. Sabina shook her wrist to straighten the bracelet.

"Thanks little bro." She had the audacity to ruffle his hair. Alex didn't bother being gentle this time, he shoved her. Sabina jumped off the stool to avoid falling and laughed at him.

"You have mascara on your eyelids, Sab."

Her laughter stopped with a squeaky half scream. "What! But I checked," She quickly went to find a mirror to fix her non-existent issue. Alex snorted back a laugh and used his last pancake to wipe up the last of the syrup from his plate.

"That was a little mean."

Alex just shrugged and licked clean his fingers. Liz grabbed his plate and loaded it into the dishwasher. He lifted his elbows for her as she began to wipe the bench down. Sabina returned and whacked him in the shoulder. She grabbed her car keys from the key draw.

"Bye Mum." The door slammed behind her.

He couldn't help it; Alex laughed, his eyes watered. Liz giggled along with him.  
Alex got up from his seat.

"I should finish getting ready"

Liz nodded and her eyes dropped to his wrist. Her smile faded slightly.

"Don't forget your wristband; I don't want people thinking that you're a gangbanger. Someone might call social services."

Alex raised any eyebrow, "Do you even know what gangbanger means?"  
Judging by her expression, she didn't, but her stern look got her point across.

Just under a year ago, Alex had gotten into an argument with Liz and Ed. He couldn't even remember what about exactly. But out of spite, Alex got a tattoo.  
He had been lashing out for a while, his grief over a lost childhood and family had turned into anger. The tattoo symbolised a high point of his low point but he couldn't bring himself to have it removed.

It was a black scorpion, the symbol of Scorpia to be exact. On his right wrist, it sat 7 cm long, 6 cm wide and in line with his pinkie finger. Underneath it in neat cursive were the words, _Veni, Vedi, Vexi, Vici_. The extended version of the famous Julius Caesar quote; _I came, I saw, I lived, I conquered.  
_Alex thought it rather fitting, given the circumstances. He had never seen Ed look so angry or Liz so disappointed. So despite the 'emo/cutter' comments from school, he now kept it covered with a thick wristband to appease them.

Alex ran his thumb over the barbed tail. He nodded and left the room. Alex never knew what his adopted parents' opinion meant to him until that moment he had returned home, black ink on show. He never wanted to see those looks on either of their faces again.

* * *

The sound of an abused car horn signalled that Alex's ride was here. It was a sound that his neighbours had often complained about.

"They're late again" Liz huffed.

Alex threw his bag onto his shoulder and grabbed his house keys.  
"See you after school, Liz"

As he went for the door, Liz placed a hand on his arm. Alex fought the instinctual urge -Not a threat- to rip it off.

"Wait just one second, did you remember your journal?"

The psycho journal the shrink gave Alex; must be filled in every day and be on his person at all times. Only so later, he could read every word to check he was still sane.

Alex tried not to groan.

"Yes Liz, I remembered my journal and yes, I did fill it out last night...And yes, my friends are late again and you're not helping".

Liz reached to straighten his collar.

"Well, okay. You'll be fine, there's nothing that could happen today that you can't handle. You're stronger than you think".

Alex sighed; grabbing her wrist to stop her faffing, he drew her into a hug.

"I'll be fine, seriously. And I love you too" Alex pulled away. "But I really have to go".  
As if to prove his point, there was another long and loud honk of the waiting car horn, followed by an obnoxious, feminine voice.

"C'mon Wagon Wheel! Time to GO!"

Liz nodded. Tugging him closer for one last squeeze and then pushed him away.

"Well hurry up then, be gone already. You've had enough detentions".

The name belonging to the loud, obnoxious voice was Andi or to be more correct, Alexandra. Naturally, they couldn't have two Alex's in the group and Andi didn't like her name anyway -Alex had feigned to be insulted-, which was a relief because Alex hadn't liked the sound of AJ.

Her designated place was the driver's seat and Andi's twin, Oscar, was shotgun next to her. Their mechanic father, Lee Moore, had raised them on his own; he even took Alex under his wing and given him a job in his garage after Alex had been told to find a productive hobby by his Head Doctor (Alex remarked that a productive hobby was why he was there in the first place, Doc hadn't been amused).  
Usually they would be trying to talk over each but it was Friday and end of the week exhaustion hung over the brunette siblings. Oscar was mindlessly chewing a muesli bar that was probably breakfast. Andi honestly looked like she shouldn't be driving.

Sitting beside Alex was Ellie. Vibrant red hair, colour from a bottle, styled in a pixie cut; you could spot her a mile away. For the lack of a better word, she was petite; sitting at barely 5ft 3. Older than all of them, she looked younger by five.  
She was also well known for turning up to Comic Con as Luna Lovegood every year (the year before she had convinced him to go as James Bond, simply for his perfect accent; Sabina refused to go as Miss Moneypenny and made a point of not talking to him the entire time).

Her head was buried in a magazine, somehow immune to the car sickness Alex would be feeling if he were to read in a moving vehicle.

Streets passed by at rate that suggested Andi was due for another speeding ticket in the mail. Her last one had just been paid off and her grounding lifted.  
As the school came closer, Alex got a sense of..._wrongness.  
_Maybe it was warning, maybe it was just paranoia.  
After two years of 'freedom' from MI6, he had been taught that the instinct -as Alex had called it- that kept him alive in so many occasions, was now out to get him. That he was "safe" and that his "paranoia" was PTSD, and the danger was "in his head". Right now however, Alex wasn't so sure.  
Andi pulled into the carpark and the companionable silence became a heavy one.

"Where is everyone?"

Oscar voiced Alex's own thoughts. They weren't so late that the area would be full of cars but void of people however there was _no one_ around.

They all exited the vehicle, the slam of their doors echoed symphonically around the concrete clearance.

Andi scouted the area.  
"So, what do you think? We missed the Rapture?"

Ellie hummed in disagreement, shifting the weight of her bag on her shoulder, as she started forward.

"I think that is highly improbable as I'm still here but I'm not surprised you are".

Alex gave Oscar a sideways look, which he returned with scrunch of his features and a casual shrug.

"What are you four doing out here!? You should be in the auditorium; get inside NOW!"

Oscar looked ready to run for it as a strict looking, slight female figure marched towards them.

"Oh Shit! Mrs Harnett!"

Mrs Harnett -Hornet/HardNuts-, an angry middle-aged teacher with a hatred for tardiness (and children) was storming towards them with the fury of a snarling wolf.

Alex shared a panicked look with the group.

"Auditorium it is then". 

* * *

After being forcibly careened into the auditorium and seated separately by the spidery woman, Alex felt no less at ease by what looked to be an impromptu assembly. The large room hummed with quiet nervous chatter as the large figure of the Headmaster -built for rugby, Alex always thought- walked onto the stage with two stiff, dark-suited men behind him.

Taking their places, Headmaster Hamilton boomed over them through the microphone.

"Silence!"  
The quiet came upon the crowd in unison, falling like a heavy blanket. Alex fidgeted in his seat, and examined every exit out of habit. The two suited men reeked of secret service; every hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He just knew.

"Your first period will be cut short half an hour, we're sorry for this inconvience…" Alex scoffed. "But you have all been called in for a very serious matter. It has come to police attention that this school is under the watch of some _rookie_…" One of the agents behind Mr Hamilton scowled. "Criminal organisation".

Chatter once again erupted around the room, the tone of fear and confusion evident. Alex felt his heart descend into his stomach. Mr Hamilton raised his hand in a calming manner.

"Quiet, quiet! No need to panic; cellphones AWAY! Thank you. Please no contacting parents 'til after this assembly, we have vital information to give you".

Hushed whispers could still be heard as teachers (and the odd student) shushed the rest.

"We do not know why we are a target or what they want.." -_It's me_\- Alex thought he may melt into the floor (deep breaths Alex, -_it's me_\- it's all in your head, -_it's me_\- you're safe -_they want me_-). Alex closed his eyes. Inhale...exhale.

"Which is why the FBI have sent their best agents to investigate the matter. Your parents..or caregivers are already being informed. If you wish to be pulled out from school until the situation is resolved, the agency has promised to supply tutors free of charge. For those of you who choose to stay, classes will continue as normal. If you are approached by an agent I expect ALL of you to be as polite, respectful and truthful as you would be to all staff and act in a way that is representable to this school".

Mr Hamilton took a step back and gestured to the agent standing left of him.

"To further explain, I ask you to welcome FBI's Agent Cahil Faust to speak"

The auditorium gave the most half-arsed round of applause that Alex was sure the Headmaster would comment on it.

Agent Faust was a stout, serious, unattractive middle-aged man whose face reminded him of a pug or a bulldog. Maybe it was just the frown he'd permanently chiselled on his features.

"As your Headmaster has informed you, I am Agent Faust. I will be leading this investigation with my co-worker Agent Evans -who is currently not present-..."

If the situation wasn't so serious, Alex could've chuckled at the man's obvious anger with his colleague.

"This organisation -although newly developed- is still a ruthless threat. At this point in time, I can disclose little information however I can provide this.."

Faust pressed a button on what must have been a PowerPoint remote and an enlarged red and gold image of a bird in flight appeared on the projector screen.

"They call themselves Phoenix; this here is how they identify themselves and each other. It is their symbol, their emblem. If you see this, whether it be a spray painting, banner or tattoo, inside this school or outside, you are to notify us immediately. I expect you all to be cooperative in this investigation, failure to do so is 'impeding on an investigation' and a criminal offense. If we feel you are a hindrance, you will be subjected to the full consequences of the Law".

Faust made a point to pause and stare down every student in the room. Mr Hamilton stood very awkwardly behind him. Walking to the front, the Headmaster clapped his hands loudly together.

"Thank you, Agent Faust. Now that we're all on the same page, you are all to go to your first lesson...SIT DOWN! You have not been dismissed! You have until after school to notify us of your choice to stay or be removed".

The crowd around Alex murmured and shuffled in their seats, half standing-half squatting. Alex reached down for his bag under his seat, ready to throw it over his shoulder and power walk -No Running- out of the suffocating environment.

"You are dismissed!" 

* * *

**AN.  
Crawls out of Hibernation hole. "What year is it?" "2015!? Well Shit!"  
May have to raise rating for this story to M due to language. Your Thoughts?  
After all you can't unsee what has been seen.  
Or unread certain blurbs, so keep it T and deal with it? Or M and risk innocence?  
**

**Obviously there has been a couple of changes to the story and characters.  
Some things may play out differently to the previous JTH, but it's progress.  
Cheers,  
-Jean &amp; Diana  
**


End file.
